


A Taste of Clouds Doesn't Have to Chase Away Your Smile

by DarkPoisonousLove



Category: Winx Club
Genre: (I couldn't help it), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, And just a bit of angst, Bakery, F/M, Fluff, Food, Griffin is having none of it and yet somehow this is endearing, Pre-Relationship, Sort of? - Freeform, Valtor is being a spoiled playboy and it shows, kind of, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25092520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkPoisonousLove/pseuds/DarkPoisonousLove
Summary: Valtor gets caught in the sudden rain that pushes him to seek shelter in a small business establishment he wouldn't have looked at twice, otherwise. Inside he finds another perspective on what the clouds can bring you if you can open your heart and your mind for the magic of the universe. Bakery AU.
Relationships: Griffin/Valtor | Baltor (Winx Club)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	A Taste of Clouds Doesn't Have to Chase Away Your Smile

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be about rain which is still there but I somehow ended up with a bakery AU on my hands. I have to admit, I never thought I would write one but here we are and I am actually very happy with how it turned out.

Every water drop falling on his skin was like a slap in the face. Of course, it would rain the one day he would decide to leave the car in the company garage as he went out to lunch. And of course, it would pour down into an angry curtain of water that he couldn't get out of when it was falling over everything.

The downpour was violent and sudden. It had practically started from a clear sky and it had caught him at the narrow street he'd taken as a shortcut back to his office. It had turned out to be a shortcut to getting soaking wet when there was nowhere to hide from the rain as it seemed to mock him with its steady rhythm and loud noise. Surely, it could have waited for another five minutes that he would've needed to get back to his office but, apparently, his day had been going too well and had had to be ruined.

He wasn't wasting his time glaring at the sky no matter how much he wanted to when he had to stay focused on finding a way to hide from its attack.

An "open" sign drew his gaze and he headed towards the small shop keeping his pace steady. He wasn't going to run from the rain like he was afraid of it. If anything, his jaw only clenched harder at the feeling of the soaked fabric of his suit jacket between his fingers. It was hardly keeping his hair dry anymore and he had nothing else to cover his head. He could have a change of clothes in the office but he still hadn't installed a hairdryer. He hadn't thought it necessary but he was sure to look into the option now since letting the events of the last few minutes repeat was unacceptable.

He pushed the door of the small business establishment to hear a ring that surely couldn't have come from a bell. And indeed, when he looked up, he was met with a wind chime that had a small solar system hanging from it. It was the Sun that the door pushed and sent the whole system into motion producing the sound.

He might have been more interested in it if he weren't in a rush to turn back to the sky and give a victorious smirk now that he'd won. The only times he was getting his hair wet were when he decided to go for a swim in the mansion's pool. Or when there was a pool party. Either way it involved a pool and an incentive and none of that was present currently.

"What can I help you with?" a voice startled him to the effect of him whirling around to the inside of the shop from where it had come as if he’d been caught at the scene of the crime.

The mellow timbre obviously belonged to the woman behind the counter who was the only one in the little space. It seemed business wasn't exactly blooming which was a shame when she herself was a sight worth the visit.

She had purple hair that seemed to cascade down her back in what had to be a braid that he couldn't guess the length of. It hardly mattered when he had her lithe figure in front of his eyes. He could see her curves even under the apron she was wearing and she had the figure of a model which he could attest to after all the time he'd spent in the company of women from all walks of that profession. And her eyes seemed to have shined a light on the thought in his mind with their bright golden color since the look she was giving him was cutting with knowledge of where he’d ended up mentally when he was on her territory.

"Nothing, I'm afraid," he said, his brain protesting when his nose could distinguish the smell of coffee from between the threads of the scent of baked bread and sugar weaving themselves around him. He was more than awake at that time of the day–especially after the surprise bath from the rain–but the yearning for the familiar warmth of a cup of coffee in his hand and the bitter taste of it on his tongue to chase away the cold and sourness left from the downpour washed over him.

"None of my products is catching your appetite?" she asked, making him look around only to feel overwhelmed by the colorful display of sweets and pastries.

He'd entered a bakery. He could've well thought it was a flower shop with all the plants around the place that were in every corner, on every table and even hanging from the ceiling in pots that seemed too small to contain them as they spilled over the sides and reached for him with their green stems. He was getting the vibe of a hostile jungle that was looking to tangle into his hair and keep him in place to feed on his life force until there was nothing left of his muscles and he was done for.

"I'm sorry but do I look like I go anywhere near these things?" he asked, stepping closer to give her the chance to take a better look at him. If she hadn't done that already. She must have had plenty of time to look at him while he'd still been fighting his mental battle with the rain outside and experience had shown that his fitness hours plus a gluten free diet had women turning after him. She wouldn't have even needed to put in the effort to do that when he was right in front of her. Lucky girl.

"Your muscles can't handle a bit of spectacular cooking and a hooking taste?" she asked, propping herself on the counter on her elbows and he was sure that even if the apron hadn't been blocking the view of her cleavage, he still wouldn't have been looking at it when he had his focus pinned on the challenge on her face. It was so potent in the curve of her smirk and the arch of her brow as she looked so pleased with herself. Like she owned the place which was highly likely but it was beside the point. She was too pleased with herself for his liking.

"I was just hiding from the rain," he said, holding her gaze to make it clear he meant to return her insult.

"Your loss," she shrugged, her nonchalance getting on every last one of his nerves and setting them on fire with the outrage rising in him that even the rain hadn't managed to draw out. "My bakery can offer so much more than just shelter and you are the only one that will suffer from not knowing that," she said, her eyes sparkling triumphantly even when he'd gone for her ego.

He'd been quite secure the subtle dig about the unpopularity of her business would have gotten her–surely he would have known about the place as close to his office as it was if it were that good–yet she didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, he was the one with the problem right now.

"You won't kick me out just because I'm not here for the cookies, right?" he asked even though he knew she had a much better reason to kick him out back in the rain. She had the reason and the power and he was having a what could be described as mild adrenaline rush at the thought of being at her mercy. He hadn't quite found himself in a situation like that before which might have been what had had him so haughty before realization had kicked in.

"Of course not," she said, her tone not as light anymore as if she was trying to give her feelings a place to hide where the sun wouldn’t find them even if it was nowhere to be seen currently as the clouds provided enough darkness. She seemed to catch that as well and was quick to mend it. "You look like you're gonna melt if you have to go back out in the rain," she said, a glint in her eyes that he couldn’t interpret as malicious no matter how hard he tried to do just that.

"You should try going out there before you mock," Valtor snipped, relaxed as much as he could be in the wetness of his pants sticking to his legs and his suit jacket gushing water in his hand–he was leaving a puddle on her floor as he realized, yet she didn't seem bothered by it–now that they were back to teasing. It was a good thing that she wasn't quite as vengeful as he was.

"I have sweets tougher than you," she bit back but the grin on her face was just playful rather than vicious. "Speaking of which, us, peasants, have work to do," she pushed herself off the counter. "You can stay until the rain stops, Your Highness," she threw at him casually before turning her back on him. The audacity.

He had work to do as well. She wasn't the only one who had a business to run. Though, she was probably the only one who was doing it on her own when he had many people to coordinate and manage.

"You know what," he said, glad to see her stop dead in her tracks, “I'll try your infamous sweets.” She could have decided that she'd gotten the last word but he had other plans. And since he was the customer, he had the privilege. For once. "I'll take your specialty," he said, only hoping that it wasn't something too sugary. It could be too much for his years of abstinence. Though, he was sure he could manage one bite. He had to.

"That's an excellent choice," she chimed at him immediately, not phased by his sudden change of mind, and moved to grab a plate.

"I will be the judge of that," he said, expecting her to shoot him a dirty glare but she only gave a self-assured smirk as she barely acknowledged him while she worked on serving him.

It had him tensing as if for a fight when he didn't know what he was up against and what smart remark she would whip out next. He hadn't quite felt that in years now that his company had grown so much that all business partners were the ones that had to win him over and not the other way around. It was refreshing when he’d thought it would bother him quite like the rain had.

She seemed to be at the exact opposite specter of experience when she was working swiftly and dexterously, the motions she was going through a second nature. Despite the obvious habit, she didn't seem bored or annoyed with her work. The smile didn't leave her face and her body was not resisting the process like he could feel his own doing sometimes when he'd been buried in documentation so long that he'd missed his physical exercise. She looked like she was at the right place and she knew it with every inch of her being which, as much as it puzzled him–her life did seem a bit too tedious and ordinary if she was taking such pleasure in bantering with him–also drew him to her when she seemed to love her job more than he did his.

"Here you go. My favorite recipe," she said as she served him what looked like a tower of whipped cream–only somehow fluffy and soft like cotton, and extremely violet in color–though that could be just his own twisted perception considering he hadn't had that much sugar in front of him in years.

"What's that?" he asked. If he was about to die from it, might as well know what to blame.

"I call it a Kiss of the Clouds," she said and he was almost sure she was joking but no one could be that good of an actor. Not even her although she seemed to have a plethora of skills, not the least of which leaving him speechless. He had to give her credit for that since it wasn't an easy feat, yet she'd accomplished it without straining herself in the slightest.

"You're serious?" he asked, his gaze moving from the thing to her and then back again. Maybe names were her weakness.

"I'll just let my work speak for itself and shut you up," she said, though whether her voice wavered just the tiniest bit or he was projecting his own internal lack of steadiness, he wasn’t sure. He sure hoped he hadn’t pulled the thread that could unravel her confidence by accident when he didn’t truly want to pull it deliberately either as he wasn’t certain he’d enjoy conquering the victory in that fight.

He bit into it rather aggressively only to feel it melt in his mouth and release its taste that was exactly what he would have imagined clouds to taste like if he’d ever taken the time to do that. It was sweet in a way so light it felt like a breeze brushing against your taste buds and there was a refreshing coolness to it that he realized was coming from the tint of mint he could trace to the core of the flavor. It was everything the rain outside had refused to be and he was lost in the strange land of wonder she’d introduced to his brain through food.

"Saw the light, did you?" she asked, and maybe it was her who was projecting because her eyes were the ones shining radiantly with satisfaction as if she’d been the one to have a bite of heaven. And maybe she had. Maybe the approval of her work was all she needed to sustain her confidence and joy. And what a striking thought that was when he could never have enough of anything.

"I might if I eat all of it after all that time I haven't had sugar and I really want to even though I shouldn't," he admitted when discarding his ego for a moment was a small price to pay for the warmth of her company, especially when her eyes were illuminated by pride that was in no way imposing. It made her even more beautiful when it was completely deserved and it would be a crime to deny her the praise her creation was due.

"It's made with stevia. You will be just fine,” she said, startling him with how easily she revealed her secret. Not that he could ever come any close to replicating her recipe even if he had the best chefs do it for him, but the instant reassurance coming from her seemed so in character he was annoyed by his own surprise.

"I'm half sure you're only saying that to get me to buy more but it is working nonetheless and I can't do anything about it," he admitted, both to make up for his disbelief in her good nature and because it was true. The only reason he hadn’t devoured the whole thing yet was because he was too busy soaking up the interaction with her. It was the best thing he’d ever tasted and he wanted more.

She gave a grin that didn’t make him feel like the ground was no longer under his feet when it was only logical as she’d claimed the triumph in their argument. "How many do you want?”

"How many do you have?" Valtor asked when he wasn’t ready to give up just yet. Not when losing left him with the taste of her masterpiece in his mouth and not licking the wounds on his ego.

"More than you could possibly eat alone even if you were only feeding on those," she was ready with her answer and it felt good to have someone leading when he knew she wouldn’t just let him drop off a cliff. All she did was push him further into thought to come up with something equally as clever and it was more stimulating that the rush of endorphins he got after a training session.

"Who says I'll be eating them alone?" he asked, the thought of making her jealous unable to surface through the visuals of what his parents’ parties would look like if they served her desserts. He was sure his mom would love the things enough to try to hire the bakery to work exclusively for them, though that would need to remain just in the dream realm as the woman in front of him would disagree with the notion of working for a sole costumer no matter how much she would get paid. The quantity she was after was not in money and it was obvious by her personal interaction with the costumers.

"I told you that you wouldn't be." Not to mention her sales technique of arguing which wasn’t that at all. She wasn’t trying to take his money and that he could guarantee for. She’d just shown him what he was missing.

"I'll take seventeen," he decided to give her her victory after she’d done more than deserve it.

"Seventeen?" her forehead creased slightly at the taste of confusion.

"Why does that surprise you?" Valtor asked even though he had the perfect idea. If he stopped being an ass now, she would have no more reason to keep bantering with him, though.

"Seems too specific," she relented as if to prove him wrong. Almost as if she could see through him, though the more realistic–and less self-centered–explanation would be that she just knew when to admit defeat. Unlike him who always got carried away. Though, he supposed she didn’t have the means to bail herself out of trouble every so often and needed to be reasonable instead.

"Today is the seventeenth," he offered, watching her lips part from the hitting realization to bring a smirk on his. He'd managed to catch her off guard and he considered it an accomplishment–probably the biggest he’d had in a while since his business policy was rather a habit at this point and any success it brought him could hardly be called a new achievement–even if she recovered quickly.

"Coming right up," she announced as she headed to complete his order. She didn’t look offended by his games and it had his heart swell even when it said more about her than it did about him when he’d already said everything about himself she needed to know to draw her conclusions about the kind of person that he was. And she wouldn't be incorrect either.

Her being distracted with packing his Kisses was the perfect opportunity to shove the rest of the one he hadn’t finished in his mouth but he restrained himself no matter how much he wanted to. He could take his Kiss home. The conversation with her he could only have here and he was already running out of time as she’d probably go back to her work once she had finalized her sale. He’d already filled up more of her time than she probably had for him.

“How did you get the idea for these?” he asked as he focused on her even if he could barely see her behind the wall of sweets standing between them. Far more than he could eat no matter how much he would love to have the sight of her in front of him again. His efforts to keep his fingers off of her Kiss would have to be enough to show his determination when he would get too lost in the taste–or the tender violet color that was an echo of her hair color distant enough to make the resemblance dreamy as if it was part of a magical world he didn’t belong in–to hear her story. At least one of the many he was sure her bakery harbored like it was a storybook.

“Well, most people only ever see clouds as something undesirable. They either hide the sunshine needed for tanning or bring rain to soak them when they didn’t have the foresight to bring umbrellas and ruin their mood when they can’t find the beauty in something seemingly lacking charm,” she said and Valtor was only able to rationalize she wasn’t describing him when he kept his own question in mind. She’d just met him and he was sure as hell not the center of her universe. “I’ve always found a certain kind of magic in the clouds. They can revive the earth when they give their rain and they can be a source of joy if you have the imagination to find amusement in them,” she said, most certainly catching his bewilderment even if he hadn’t seen her look at him as she continued. “Ever looked at the clouds and tried to find what they look like? My favorite was the shape of a dragon I saw in them a few years back. It looked so regal... Majestic.”

“A dreamer, huh?” Valtor asked, his question far more mocking than he’d intended, though he should’ve known when that was his default. He actually admired her for getting herself where she was without losing her spark of eccentricity and her curious approach to the world. A dragon sounded like something that would catch her attention, indeed.

“Well, we can’t be all practical...ly boring,” she teased as she emerged from her world of homemade wonders–there was no other way to describe what she could do with her cooking and the fairytale places she could take you to through your sense of taste–and he didn’t have a good enough answer even though he hadn’t grown up struggling to become who he was and he hadn’t needed to sacrifice his dreams for the wealth he had. "That would be-"

"Keep the change," Valtor said as he slid a hundred on the counter. He didn’t feel like a fifty would be enough to compensate for all of her time that he’d taken up with his entitlement.

"That's a bit too generous,” she said, making no move to take the money. “Even if you won't go broke, Valtor."

The sound of his name when he hadn’t given it was more startling that the whole experience had been when he’d given her his honesty. Indirectly as it may have been, but she had certainly given the impression she’d been able to read him. She couldn't have read his name in their meeting, though. She’d known it beforehand.

"You know who I am?" he asked, his mind not even paying attention to the redundancy he was spewing when it was still stuck on figuring out what her words meant for him.

"I do," she didn’t offer more and he had to bite his tongue to keep from asking how. Even if that didn’t help sever the need to know whether she recognized him from a business magazine or from a tabloid. He sure hoped it was the first even when hope had never been his thing. He wasn’t good at it and it wasn’t good to him in return. And the way they were clawing at each other currently was the perfect proof since there was no way she didn’t see him as the playboy he was and yet, there was still a spark of hope inside him for the opposite that refused to go out. Maybe it was just tempted to shine as bright as her eyes even when he doubted he could ever be capable of that.

"Do I get a name? Or should I go look outside?” he asked, ever so confident in himself. Although, this time it felt a lot more like desperation.

"I'm afraid it's a bit trickier than that,” she said, her words bouncing off the walls of her candy house to start painting it a nightmare now. “My name is for loyal customers." Her words stung with the implication of the truth in them.

"So I can buy the privilege to know it?" he hid behind his ever growing green wall when she could deliver a devastating blow even though she’d proven by now it was not her goal. It was low of him to think that when all she wanted was to make people happy. She was making little pieces of heaven and he still couldn't trust her. It really said more about him than he’d ever wanted to hear.

"You can earn it,” she said, the first tint of sharpness tainting the sound of her voice. As if she was trying to cut through the shade of green that did nothing for her among the comfort of her plants, yet he’d painted all around them and he couldn't decide which one of them would have crumpled the banknote still lying on the counter more if holding it. “You can't buy everything with money," she slid it back towards him to punctuate.

"What do you think I'm trying to buy?" he asked, leaning on her counter casually as if his brain had failed to deduce she most certainly had knives lying around and would need just one precise stab to pop his inflated ego.

"My time,” she said, the words piercing through him the same way her eyes had allowed her to see everything. “More Kisses perhaps," she held his gaze burning through his resolve to contain the impulse to lick his lips when she’d spread another one of the delicious fantasies she was cooking up over them. It would be all she needed to kick him out in the rain that would wash all of them out of his mind so he had to be careful. He didn’t want to get soaked through to the soul.

"Well then, I can try it your way.” He took back his hundred and left her the fifty that should have been on her counter from the start. “I can be very loyal," he said, pocketing his change to illustrate he’d received her message loud and clear even if he’d forced her to send it through a channel she wouldn't normally use.

"That's not the impression one gets from the media." And there was the answer to his hope. Another slap in the face. Or was it a paparazzi flashlight–always meant for the model next to him–in his eyes that could very well be the reason he would never get to see the real her?

"The media doesn't know me." Of course, it didn’t. It would be hard for anyone else to know him when he hardly knew himself these days. Somewhere down the road of being the heir to a big business he’d lost the sensitivity of his soul and he’d been trying to fill the hole left after it with anything he could get his hands on. Even his parents’ love hadn’t helped when it couldn’t get attached to the emptiness in his heart that was all his doing and he’d tried to buy something big enough to fill it.

"Fair enough," she said and the two words were like a flood trying to sweep him away.

Naturally, he did what he was used to and tightened his grip on her counter to the point where he would have suffocated it if it had been a living, breathing thing. No wonder everyone had trouble staying with him when he was clutching the same way at people. No one would smile while getting asphyxiated in his embrace.

She smiled at him and a ray of sunshine hit the counter forcing him to relinquish it–just like the clouds had relinquished the sun–if he didn’t want his fingers scorched by the raw power it held.


End file.
